


Jump

by Ashura



Category: Young Wizards - Diane Duane
Genre: F/M, First Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-16
Updated: 2011-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-14 19:52:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashura/pseuds/Ashura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes things are simple even when they shouldn't be. Spoilers up to Wizard’s Dilemma.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jump

**Author's Note:**

> This was first written and posted in 2002, before A Wizard Alone was available where I was and with a bit of poetic license--Kit and Nita were meant to be 15 and 16 despite a certain sad event not having yet occurred. You can either read it like that (it's not as if Duane's timeline is all that consistent anyway) or assume they're actually younger, since they've always acted old for their age anyway.

Kit would never, for the rest of his life, be completely clear about how it had begun.  It was disappointing in a way, because one’s first kiss ought to be infinitely memorable, engraved indelible across the neural pathways—all the awkward nose-bumping and the dampness of lips and quick gasps and flutterings and nervousness.  He came away from it with his heart thudding too hard in his chest, and the taste of spearmint lingering in his mouth, and no clear idea how he had just come to be kissing Nita Callahan, or which of them had started it.

 

Nita herself wasn’t much help.  She blushed red and tripped over some nonsense words and finally, when the situation was becoming really incomprehensibly awkward, Dairine had appeared out of thin air—literally—and taken her home.

 

“It’s Mom,” she’d said, and Kit recalled perfectly—the way he couldn’t quite capture the kiss—the way Nita’s face had changed so suddenly; the risen colour draining from her face, her shoulders stiffening, her eyes dark.

 

“I’ll call you later,” she said, and Kit told them to say hi to their mom, and once they had disappeared, he went for a walk.

 

It wasn’t that he hadn’t given plenty of thought, over the course of his adolescence, to kissing Nita.  He had, probably more than he would ever care to admit.  She’d grown up and turned pretty since their first meeting, when he was a short skinny kid with a perpetual scowl and she was a nerdy, mousy girl with stringy hair.  It was part of the reason it bothered him so much when the guys at school made comments about her body—they were all true.  Sometimes he wanted to say, “Back off!  I saw her first,” except that there were already so many rumours about the two of them, the same rumours that had been floating around since junior high—and he didn’t want to make it worse.  Especially since...well, it seemed like the sort of thing he ought to actually discuss with Nita first, before trying to stake a claim. 

 

Somehow, he never quite got around to the discussing it part.

 

“Heyheyheyhey!!”  A breathless panting voice preceded the dog that bounded up to him, barking giddily.  “Wherewereyou?  Whereareyougoing?  CanIcometoocanIcanI?”

 

If there was one thing that remained forever constant in Kit’s life, it was this creature; four legs and wild fur and infinite enthusiasm.  Now, though, company of the loud canine variety wasn’t quite what he was looking for.  “In order,” he answered, rubbing Ponch’s head affectionately, “I was with Nita, I’m going for a walk, and no, you can’t come this time.”

 

“I can’t?”  Ponch sank back on his haunches, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, his eyes wide and sad and lonely.  Even knowing he was being manipulated, Kit felt guilty.

 

“Not this time.  We’ll go out later and chase squirrels or something, okay?  I’ve...got stuff I want to think about, and if you’re along it’ll be too easy to let myself get distracted.”

 

Ponch was disappointed, but the glint in his eyes was irritatingly knowing, and he bounded off back toward the house with only “Squirrels later!” as a parting shot.  Kit rolled his eyes, wondered if he was really so unsubtle he couldn’t even keep his real thoughts from his dog, and went on wandering.

 

He didn’t really have a destination in mind, or even a coherent plan of attack for dealing with the chaos in his brain.  On one hand, the essence of his thoughts were fairly straightforward: regardless of who had initiated the kiss, he’d liked it, it was something he’d wanted for quite a long time, and as long as Nita was of a similar mind, he intended to do it again.  That was the simple part.  Where things got more complicated was the same place they always got complicated:  as soon as he plugged wizardry into the equation.  He wasn’t sure what the protocol was for wizarding partners who got romantically involved, but he had a feeling it wasn’t a chapter in the manual.

 

Or was it?  The thought occurred abruptly but late, and he was almost ashamed it had taken him so long to realise it.  If it was important, it would be in the manual, that’s the way they worked.  If it wasn’t mentioned, well then he could probably take it to mean that it wasn’t something the Powers considered important enough to deal with, and shouldn’t mess anything up.

 

He fished the book out of his jacket pocket and sank down right there on the sidewalk, against someone’s tall wooden fence.  The sun had dropped below the horizon but evening was early and the sky was still light.  He flipped through pages at random, and none of the pages ever said the same thing twice, until finally it had sorted itself out and fell open at a chapter entitled “WIZARD ROMANCE.”  Kit resisted the urge to make a gagging noise, because yes it sounded incredibly cheesy, but it /was/ what he was looking for.  // _Yet another reason I’m glad nobody’s here to see this.  Including Ponch,_ // he thought, but settled down to read anyway.

 

The manual, or the Powers that organised it, were apparently of mixed feelings on the subject.  On one hand, wizards who were in love were even closer than normal working partners; they had access to more of each other’s power, could pick up on the subtle nuances of thoughts so well it was akin to having a secret language indecipherable even to other wizards, and—to paraphrase what actually took several lines in the Speech to explain—could basically kick some major entropy butt when it came down to the wire.

 

That was the good part.  On the other hand, the book explained—a bit cynically, Kit thought—love among mortals was hardly a reliable thing.  Perfectly good partnerships had been left in shambles when the wizards in question broke up and realised in the aftermath of their relationship that they couldn’t even work together anymore.  Love could be warped, twisted, or used against you, one lover could be targeted to get at the other.  To put it bluntly:  loving a wizard was not safe.

 

“You’re not much help,” Kit told the book.  It said nothing, though he could imagine the reactions it might have had, had it been sentient like Dairine’s laptop computer version.  He stood up, dusted himself off, and stuffed it back into his pocket.

 

He walked until the twilight deepened purple and the sickly yellow crescent moon hung above the rooftops.  He had no real destination in mind, so it surprised him when he realised he’d wandered down Rose Avenue was approaching a high poplar hedge with a brown wood house behind it.

 

// _Oh, why not?  It’s hardly the weirdest thing I’ve ever had to ask them about._ //  Kit glanced at his watch—not even eight-thirty, so it wasn’t too late, and he wouldn’t catch them in the middle of dinner.  Not that he had any real idea what else it was that the area Seniors did in their spare time.  Tom was a writer, and Carl had a regular job for the advertising department of a TV station, but that was work.  It had not occurred to him before that he didn’t know what their /hobbies/ were.  Besides work, besides wizardly—what did they /do/?

 

He decided this, too, was his subconscious attempting to get him distracted.  He hurried up to the door, sidestepping the black and white sheepdog who barked a quick greeting, and rang the bell.

 

It was a moment before anyone answered, but he could hear the approaching footsteps—pounding down the stairs and across the living room floor—almost immediately.  “Coming!” shouted a Brooklyn accent from somewhere inside, and then the door swung open, revealing a tall man with broad shoulders and short dark hair and a mustache, wearing faded jeans and a flannel shirt.

 

“Wasn’t expecting to see you today,” Carl said, backing up and holding the door for Kit to come inside.  “What’s up?”

 

Suddenly—with a Senior wizard looking at him expectantly—Kit realised that his dilemma was going to sound ridiculously silly.

 

“Um,” he said.

 

Carl looked at him quizzically, but all he said was, “Have a seat, I’ll go grab us some Cokes.  Does whatever it is need Tom too?  He’s in the den writing, but we can call him.”

 

“Um, no, that’s okay,” Kit said, feeling his face warm.  “It’s—it’s pretty stupid actually, now that I’m here and thinking about it.”

 

“Really,” said Carl mildly, and headed for the kitchen, and Kit sank down into an oversized leather armchair, staring at the ceiling and feeling silly and ashamed of himself.  Finally a cold can of Coke was pressed into his hand, and he heard Carl getting comfortable on the sofa.  “So what’s this ‘stupid’ thing that’s on your mind, Kit?”

 

“Well,” he began, because he couldn’t quite figure out how to start, “I did look this up in the manual before I came over—actually I didn’t even mean to come over, I just kind of ended up here—but it wasn’t really helpful.”

 

“That’s fine,” Carl said, his tone gently prodding.  “That’s what we’re here for, after all.  So what is it you were looking up?”

 

“Wizard partnerships,” Kit answered, strangely reluctant to just come out and admit what was really going through his mind.  “And how they...change.”

 

“Kit,” said Carl, “I think I know where this is going, but just humour me, and get to the point already.  In what way /change/?”

 

Kit shifted uncomfortably in the chair, fixing his eyes very firmly on a place where the plaster in the wall was cracking.  “Change like—turn romantic.  I mean, nothing’s definite yet, we just kissed an hour and a half ago, but we’ve kind of been dancing around it now for years, and maybe we should just put the idea clear out of our minds, but we don’t—well, /I/ don’t want to, anyway.”  He met the older wizard’s face at long last, his eyes pleading.  “What do you think?  The stuff in the manual all kind of looked like it’s a quick catapult to total destruction, but it seems like it’s got to have worked for somebody, sometime—hasn’t it?”

 

Carl’s mouth dropped open.  He closed it, chewed thoughtfully on his lower lip as if formulating an answer, opened his mouth again, closed it.  Finally he said in a slightly strangled voice, “Well of course it’s worked for /somebody/!”

 

Maybe it was something in his voice, or the way he rolled his eyes heavenward as he said it.  Things fell into place quite suddenly for Kit, things he had never considered before, though perhaps he should have.  His cheeks flushed, his own mouth fell open—he felt like he should apologise for not having realised, while at the same time that part of him still turned inward wondered how he could be so calm about something he’d always considered—well, a bit gross, at least.  “You and Tom?” he finally squeaked out.

 

Carl was watching his reactions, appraising, an hard edge to the glint of his dark eyes.  “Does it bother you?”

 

“Um,” Kit began, but abruptly shook his head.  “No.  Just surprised is all.  I feel like I should have figured it out before.”  There was a certain amount of self-preservation involved, since sounding less than tolerant to a Senior Wizard was not the smartest thing Kit could think of to do, but more than that, he realised he was settling into the idea faster than he would have thought.  Tom and Carl were still Tom and Carl, nothing had changed, and there they were, living proof that wizards could fall in love and live together and not fall apart or hate each other or go out in a blaze of glory.  They could just live.  “How long?” he asked.

 

“Years,” said Carl.  “It’s a good story, but Tom tells it better than I do.  Ask him sometime.  Now as for you....”  He relaxed, sprawled back on the sofa, took a drink of his Coke.  “What /does/ the manual say about it these days?  It’s been a while since I read those chapters, since I figured whatever they said wasn’t going to change anything for me anyway.”

 

Kit told him the gist of it, then opened the book and read some of the pertinent parts.

 

Carl sighed.  “I really can’t just tell you what to do—not on much anymore, but definitely not on this—but we can go over this.  First—love is always a risk.  It doesn’t matter if wizardry is involved or not, any time you give your heart to somebody, or they give their to you, there’s always a chance of things going spectacularly wrong.  It’s just that with wizards, the negative energy that comes with a messy breakup can twist everything they do.  It really is that dangerous.”

 

He glanced over at Kit, who was looking a bit crestfallen.  “So what you have to do,” he continued, “is what you and Nita have had problems with sometimes in the past—communicating, even about stupid little things, so you’re both working off the same page.  If you try this, and one of you is more serious than the other, that’s where things could go wrong.”

 

“All right,” said Kit, feeling a bit like he ought to be taking notes.  Still, Carl was partly right—but not entirely.  He and Nita did have their miscommunications, but they never lasted long, and it seemed like no matter how angry they got at each other, they invariably started missing each other within the day.  // _Co-dependent, that’s what we are,_ // he thought wryly, but he didn’t believe it.

 

“As for the rest,” Carl was saying, “the part about one partner being used against the other—well that can happen anyway, can’t it?  Not to bring up something this sad, but Nita’s mother’s an example...anyone who is important to you can be used by the Lone Power that way, whether they’re a wizard or not.  At least if the one you love is a wizard, she—or he—has a chance to defend herself.”

 

“That’s true,” Kit agreed, brightening.  He ran a finger along the edge of the Coke can, contemplative.  “It seems to me like—well, like it’s going to have to be dealt with eventually, whatever we do.  Like trying to ignore it could be just as poisonous as having things fall apart.”

 

“Yes,” said Carl, “it could.”  He looked serious.  “Love is always a risk.  You just hang on and jump, and hope it’s worth it when you land.”

 

Kit’s face twisted into a wry grin.  “Thanks.  You make it sound so promising.”  Carl just shrugged and looked unapologetic.  Kit drained the last of his soda and stood up.  “Really, though, thanks.  I guess I better get going, and...well, talk to her, anyway.”

 

“Yes,” Carl said mildly, “you might try that.”

 

He meant to make some smart retort, but another voice, this one entirely in his head, cut across his thoughts.

 

// _Kit?  Hey, where are you?  I just called your house and Mela said she hadn’t seen you all day._ //

 

His heart leapt into his throat and did a funny little dance.  // _Went for a walk is all, I’m just leaving Tom and Carl’s now.  Want to meet somewhere?_ //

 

// _Sure.  I’ll just start walking and meet you partway._ //

 

“I have to go,” said Kit.  Carl chuckled tolerantly and let him out. 

 

Nita met up with him about four blocks away, a little out of breath, her hair tangled like she’d been running.  It was auburn and a bit curly, different from when they first met, when it was stringy and mousy, and her face was in that awkward phase of growing out of its baby roundness so that nothing seemed to be flattering.  Kit had never minded—besides, she hadn’t made fun of him for having knobby knees, or an unfortunate outbreak of acne in the eighth grade.  // _I know they say you don’t love properly till you’re grown up,_ // he thought, // _but it seems like if you can love somebody through puberty, you’ve gotten the hardest parts out of the way._ //

 

“Hey.  How’s your mom?”

 

She grinned at him, and his stomach went all topsy-turvy again.  “She’s okay.  Well, as okay as she ever is.”  The smile faltered, but prevailed.  “She was having a pretty lucid night, and wanted to talk.  Which worked out pretty well, since I had something I wanted to talk to her about too.”

 

Kit tried very hard to sound neutral.  “Oh?  What was that?”

 

Nita didn’t fall for it, she rolled her eyes and poked him in the arm.  “You, mostly.”

 

“Good things, I hope?”

 

“Mostly.”  She made a face at him again.  “Oh, come on.  My parents love you, you know that.  But what were you doing at Tom and Carl’s?” she interrupted herself, sounding genuinely confused.

 

“Talking,” Kit returned, deadpan, and before she could ask, he finished, “about you, mostly.”

 

“Good things, I hope?”

 

He grinned wickedly at her.  “Mostly.”  The grin faded.  “By the way, Neets—did you know Tom and Carl are—well, you know—“  He fumbled.

 

“Together?” she finished for him, and he noticed she didn’t sound surprised in the least.  “No kidding, I thought you knew that already.”

 

“You knew and didn’t tell me?”

 

She looked at him, bewildered.  “Honestly, Kit, I figured you knew.  I mean, it is kind of obvious.”  Her gaze shifted from his face to her shoes.  “So what did they say?”

 

“That we should talk.”  Somehow it seemed easier to blame the whole conversation on Carl than to take responsibility for it himself, even though he wanted to have it.

 

“Well that’s not news,” Nita snorted, stuffing her hands in her pockets.  “Where should we start?”

 

“With today, I guess.”  They walked in silence for half a block after that, because while it was all well and good to say you were going to have a meaningful conversation, actually doing it was something else entirely.  Then Kit asked, “Neets, that kiss earlier today—which of us started it?”

 

She didn’t answer right away, but he could see her thinking hard before she finally shrugged.  “I’m not sure, actually.  I figured you’d know, so I wouldn’t have to admit I didn’t.”  A grin, then.  “It does sound kind of stupid.”

 

“Yeah, but I don’t know either, so I guess we’re both stupid.  But I guess—well, if neither of us knows if we started it, then we must have both wanted to, right?”

 

Nita stared at him, which might have worried him, except that he could see the sparkle of mischief trying very hard to stay dim and quiet in her eyes.  “Well of course.  I mean, that’s why we’re having this conversation, right?”

 

“Either that or we just really like to torture ourselves,” Kit conceded dryly.

 

Nita rolled her eyes.  She did that a lot, Kit realised.  It was kind of cute.  “Tell you what.  You can start the next one, and then we won’t have this kind of confusion.”

 

“Okay,” Kit said, forcing his voice to remain calm even though his heart was pounding madly in his throat and making it difficult to breathe.  “I will.”  They stopped walking, turned and faced each other expectantly.  Nita’s eyes were wide, and he wasn’t sure if she was supposed to close them, or if he was, or if it really mattered anyway.  He was glad for the growth spurt that hit at the beginning of the school year, since he was now the taller one by a little more than half an inch so at least he wasn’t looking up at her.  He had no idea what to do with his hands.  Finally—and he had no idea how long it had been, whether a few seconds had past or a few millennia—he leaned in close and pressed his lips tentatively against Nita’s.

 

This kiss he would always remember.  It was awkward, experimental and uncomfortable, an inconsistency of dry and wet as they both tried to move their lips against each other and didn’t quite get the rhythm right, as they tried very quickly poking their tongues out, decided it was just too weird and went back to kissing without them.  Nita’s mouth was warm and tasted like mint, he thought she must have been drinking tea before she’d come out; she smelled like berries and soap and ink from old books.  Once he stopped wondering what to do with them, his arms wrapped themselves around her waist without consulting him first, and once he realised it, he decided that was a good place for them.  He pulled Nita as close as he could, but she was already pressing forward against him.  Their bodies fit together well.  He held her against his chest, his arms around her back, Nita with her messy curls and faded jeans and ratty sneakers, missing the bottommost button on her shirt because Ponch had decided to tug on it, and scrapes on both her palms because they were climbing in the apple tree in her backyard and she kept insisting on swinging from the branch by her hands.

 

“I think,” she said, soft and subdued, into the collar of his jacket, “that we might be on to something here.”

 

He kissed the top of her head, because he could, and suddenly it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.  “This is kind of cheesy, but I think maybe we’re supposed to.  I mean, it’s always been us, hasn’t it?  Since the day we became wizards.”

 

“Yeah.”  She pulled away and started walking again, but slipped her hand into his when he fell into step beside her.  “I read the stuff in the book though...it’s a bit scary.”

 

“I know.  That’s why I was talking to Carl.”

 

“What did he say?”

 

Her hand was warm, their fingers interlaced, swinging between them.  “That love’s a risk no matter how you look at it.  Something about ‘hang on and jump, and hope it’s worth it when you land.’”

 

She laughed nervously.  “That’s a little cliché for Carl.  Jump, huh?”

 

Kit grinned.  “Hey, that’s what he said.”

 

Nita shrugged, but her eyes were laughing again.  “Well he knows what he’s talking about, I guess.”  She let go of his hand and hopped off the curb.  “You coming?”

 

A drop of five inches had never seemed quite so symbolic before.  Kit wondered if there ought to be some kind of ceremony to go with it, then decided—a bit sheepishly—that this /was/ the ceremony, and jumped off the curb to the street.  Grinning broadly, he seized Nita around the waist and swung her around half a turn before he nearly lost his balance, and set her quite solidly down again.

 

“Hey, watch it!  It’s wet there—“

 

“Sorry.  You’re heavy, you know that?”

 

“Well I didn’t /ask/ you to pick me up, I already know you can’t.”

 

“If you’re insinuating I’m a weakling....”

 

“Then /what/, exactly?”

 

Realising he was going to lose this argument if it kept up much longer, Kit grabbed her and kissed her again.

 

And after that, they stopped keeping score.

 

[fin.]

 

 


End file.
